Ring in the Season This Year
by TheSpazticFantastic
Summary: Young Agnarr's first time leading the Yule Bell Tradition after losing his father. This takes place approximately three months into the "When All is Lost" story line.


The collar of Agnarr's uniform cut into his lower jaw. He could feel the skin chaffing from the wool and chapping from the wind. It was hard to reconcile sweating so heavily in his clothes while at the very same time he could see his frozen breath lingering in the cold December air. The first year he had been expected to wear the formal jacket with his high collar, in his tenth year, Father simply told him that if his subjects could be expected to put on their best to see their King and Prince then the least Agnarr could do was endure the itching uniform for a few hours. Chin up, boy. _Father_.

He clenched jaw until his teeth ached. There were too few people in the courtyard today. Far too few. They were in their best, again. Same as they had been for the funerals two months ago. When the council had finally relented and agreed that the King was not returning. When the families were finally too hurt not to hold ceremonies of remembrance for the fathers, mothers, siblings and friends who would never return from the North. Even if they had no bodies to bury. They could still place a stone.

Agnarr stood stiffly, arms rigid at his side the same way Lt. Mattias had taught him. He had seen Miss Halima at the edge of the crowd. Her face drawn and her eyes on the paving stones. She had never failed to bring him and the Lieutenant iced biscuits when they walked through town. He had seen the other boys his age who should have been with their fathers as well. But they had mothers next to them. They had not seen their fathers fall in battle with their own eyes. They had been standing stiffly too, as sons of soldiers. But now his gaze was fixed on the chilly Yule Bell as it was drawn through the gates on a creaking cart.

The same cart he had been found in, abandoned, after an unknown someone had pounded on the castle gates. His advisors had told him that it was only appropriate to use the cart this year, to remind the people of their blessings. That their King had been restored to them through favored fortune. The dancers who traditionally cleared a path for the bell were conspicuously absent. The council had not wanted to be crass. And even in what should be a joyful time, the grief was still too fresh. The Minister of Trade had lost a close nephew who had not marched back. The Minister of War – now a widower. But they had insisted on the bell. With the military might of Arendelle vanished and concerns of opportunistic sabre rattling from ambitious kingdoms and principalities, it was important to reassure the people that everything was as normal as could be. That everyone was safe.

There had always been singing in past years, as the burly tradesmen hoisted the bell into place. This year, there was just the low murmur of voices. Agnarr watched as friends and family members nudged one another with their elbows, speaking softly of who had loved what about the ceremony last year. He caught sight of Halima again, who had a strange, sad fixed kind of smile. Agnarr remembered Lt. Mattias slipping him some peppermint candy before last year's ceremony. He remembered his father's hand firmly resting on his shoulder and his broad smile as he told Agnarr a funny story about watching the bell with _his __father__._

The beams groaned as the bell settled into place. The heavy rope was there in front of it. He grasped it in his hands, suddenly numb from nerves and cold. It had never seemed so thick before. He swallowed hard, sending a silent prayer to the heavens that he would be able to ring it alone. The clock struck noon.

Mercifully, the rope was easy enough to pull and the Yule bell tolled solemnly. After three deafening intonations, that reminded him far too much of the knelling in autumn, he released the rope with a soft grunt, staring up as it continued to swing back and forth. He stepped back from the rope and looked out at his people who had gathered. He forced a smile and managed a short, formal wave – his hand as high as his shoulder. He received the same forced smiles and short waves in return. There was little point in dawdling, as people departed to salvage what they could of their Yule time traditions. Agnarr allowed himself to be guided back inside by the household staff, oddly relieved that it was over and he had made it through without crying unmanly tears in front of his kingdom.

Two days later, he made the annual Yule royal pilgrimage to Eir's Home for Foundlings and Orphans. The wagons were loaded with toys, sweets, cards and clothing that had been collected by the citizens of Arendelle for their neediest. Father had always told him that it was important for a King to care for their weakest subjects. It was a good show of power and justice. Agnarr had also requested special soldiers' uniforms for Aksel, Jac and Eydis Runde who had lost both their parents to the North. It was the least he could do until he could pay their guild fees to be apprenticed to a trade of their choice. A ruler had a duty to his people. Father had taught him as much.

Eir smiled and welcomed him with a warm hug, same as she had for his father the year before. At least she hadn't pinched his cheek again. The older children helped to unload the sleighs and pass out the gifts to the younger children. As Agnarr passed a chocolate bar to an already sticky toddler, he caught sight of a girl who looked to be his age handing a wooden reindeer to a little girl. He paused. Something about her was strangely familiar, like a half-forgotten memory. She turned to grab another toy from sled, caught him staring, and flashed him a sunny smile. He grinned in return, taking a step towards her before she was swarmed by a group of giggling little children and dragged off to a different cart.

"Who was that?" He asked Eir. "The wavy-haired girl? She wasn't here last year."

"Oh, Iduna?" Eir sighed as she handed off a jar of lutefisk. "She's new. Showed up shortly after the…unfortunate events in the North. She didn't say much, just that she had lost her whole family recently. I've asked around, your Majesty, believe me, but no one seems to know anything about the girl. Strange in these parts, you know? But there are wars enough so I suppose she just ran until she couldn't. Won't be the first who ended up here that way. I've always taken in the refugees. Very handy with the little ones, though. Very pleasant. A bit odd, but who knows what was normal where she came from? It would be a funny old world if we were all the same."

"It would," he agreed. Agnarr picked up some of the heavy blankets they had brought and walked into the building, which was always welcoming and a credit to Eir. He walked to the small room that served as the Orphanage's sick ward. Two small boys, who he thought seemed far too energetic to be cooped up in there, happily accepted the blankets and a handful of peppermints. As he said his good-byes and shut the door, he managed to back right into someone. He turned to apologize.

"Oh! Hello, your Majesty!" It was like she carried the sun with her.

"I'm so sorry!" He stepped back. "I-Iduna, right?"

"Iduna, yes." She was wearing pants. Agnarr didn't think he had ever seen a woman in Arendelle who wasn't a soldier actually wear pants before. They looked warm. "Thank you for all of the gifts today."

"Oh-uh, well, you know," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his beck. "It's like my Father taught me. Never go anywhere without bringing a gift." _Oh My God What Am I Saying?_ "I don't think I've met you before? I didn't see you at the Yule Bell Ceremony. I thought Eir brought everyone."

"Iggy and Stig were ill," she nodded at the door behind him. "Someone had to stay. And everyone was so excited to go and see you start the season."

"They were?"

"Of course!" She smiled broadly again. "I even opened the window so the boys wouldn't miss all the festivities. The bell chimed so lovely. I could hear it clear as anything."

He laughed. "I hadn't thought of that. I'm glad you-they enjoyed it. Would you like one? We have the little bells that people put on sticks each year. Eir said you might be from else wh-" He paused, watching as her expression clouded and mirrored those who were in the courtyard that day. Pained and haunted. "I mean, just – I would like to give you a bell. If you liked it, I mean. As a gift. If you wanted one."

There was a long moment of silence where she bit her lower lip and looked at the ground. Agnarr felt rooted to the spot. Then she looked up with warm eyes. "I would love one from you, thank you." They walked slowly to the carts, talking about the weather. She greeted almost every child by name and laughed as the little ones charged her with their wooden reindeer before thundering off. The carts were nearly emptied and the guards were preparing the horses as the children carried off the remaining toys.

"We'll be ready to leave soon, your Majesty," one saluted. Agnarr nodded, but felt his stomach flip. His father had never dallied and Eir never invited them to stay. An adult understanding, Father explained once when Agnarr was very small and asked why they couldn't stay for dinner.

"Are there any bells left?" He asked.

"Here!" A loud chime rang in his ear. Agnarr started and spun round. Iduna laughed and flicked it again.

"She got you good!" A tiny girl giggled as she skipped past. He chuckled, shrugged, and felt the heat rise on his cheeks again.

"Found one, huh?"

"I did!" She spun it on her finger and glanced over at the soldiers. "You're leaving so soon? Eir usually has us set up for dinner soon. If you don't mind wooden bowls."

"i-" There was an emptiness in his chest. "I wish I could," he said earnestly. "I really do. But we never did before."

"And Eir might have a fit if you stayed? If she had to serve His Majesty with wooden bowls?" Iduna grinned. "You know she made us scrub the whole place twice before you came. Really, twice! I thought she was joking."

"She did? It's just me!" He laughed. "I'm sorry." Iduna shrugged.

"No hard feelings." She was staring at the ground and scuffing her toe. "Sure you don't want to try something new this year?"

He smiled sadly. "I wish I could. But the soldiers," he glanced over at his guards as they stocked cords of firewood. "They have dinners to get to with their families. And their friends. The ones who are left. I can't keep them." There was a long moment of silence.

"Arendelle had a hard year," Iduna said slowly. "You're a very thoughtful ruler." He looked into her measured gaze with wonder, feeling as though she were sizing him up in ways he couldn't comprehend. The weight of what he said – how inconsiderate he had been – in the face of her loss as well if she had wound up in an orphanage so recently while he had a castle to go to – hit him in full and he opened his mouth to apologize. Then she gave him another dazzling smile. "Next year then!" She nodded her chin at the setting sun. "You can make it back before it's dark. And I had best get back to Stig and Iggy before they sneak out and make themselves sick on peppermints. Thank you for the bell!"

"You're welcome!" He managed to blurt out before she vanished through the doorway. He stared a moment until Captain Karsten strode over from the woodpile. "Your Majesty, whenever you're ready." Agnarr nodded and mounted his horse. He heard a knocking and looked to see two small faces and Iduna's pressed against the window of the sick room. She led the little ones in flattening their lips and noses while making funny sounds for a few seconds, before she pulled back and waved at him. Agnarr laughed, waved, and then nickered for his horse to trot off.

He smiled so long that Captain Karsten commented on it during their ride back to Arendelle. He buried his face in his scarf after that, warmed from inside at the thought of her and wondering if there was a way to invite himself for a Yule dinner without giving Eir a heart attack. Or, even better, perhaps a way to surprise Iduna the way she had surprised him. He turned that thought over with a grin as they rode back to the castle, wondering at the delight that had been so unfamiliar and the joy he wanted to feel again.


End file.
